Prisoners of War
by tinx-r
Summary: After the war came the time apart, and that was worse than what had come before.  Warning for PTSD and angst


**1.**

Cody had told himself he'd do okay. He'd told himself he could put on his old life with his civvies, find a job and walk the city streets like he'd never been to war.

He'd been so wrong. Every sound was overloud, grating on his ears, and everywhere he went the light was far too bright. Everywhere he went he went alone, exposed and lost. There was no-one on his side and no-one understood the things he'd seen.

He lasted one day in an office. A day of shuffling paper and pasting on a smile, a day of typewriters clattering and chattering voices before he'd locked himself in the latrine, shaking with a terror he couldn't voice.

Wherever he hid, the fear followed, huge and hungry; when he slept it stalked his dreams, when he drank it rose to choke him until he lashed out at the sounds and pictures and woke up bruised and battered in a cell.

He'd tried to make it with a woman and the fear rose before him, fetid and ugly, the stink of death and the screams of the dying all around him until he ran from the room, her voice lost in the whop of rotors and the clatter of the guns.

She picked up her things and moved into his roommate's bed, and Cody saw the devil laughing at him in Byron's mocking smirk. If he'd had a weapon he'd have killed him where he stood, but as Cody fumbled at his belt for the gun that wasn't there, he heard the echo of his partner's voice calling him, urgent, almost desperate.

He spun around, Nick's name on his lips, but instead of a waiting Huey there was only his bedroom door, the white iron bed, a mess of clothes across the floor. No jungle, no war. No Nick. Cody started to shake, and when he turned back, Byron was gone, only the echo of his laughter down the hall.

He poured himself a whiskey with a shaking hand, feeling the walls close in. He was lost in this new jungle, its dangers worse than anything he'd seen in Vietnam. And worst of all, here he was alone. The liquor burned his throat and stopped the shakes, just for a second, and he knew what he had to do.

**2.**

I hear him in my dreams. I hear him laugh, I hear him breathe, I hear him say my name, and when I wake to silence it tears me apart.

I'm living on coffee and cigarettes; food makes me sick to my gut, even though Kimmie in the office brings me in my lunch, every day. She's a pretty kid with happy eyes, so I eat it to please her while she chatters about her mom or her new high heeled shoes. Sometimes I even keep the food down after she leaves.

I work every shift they'll give me 'cause it's better than all those hours alone in the trailer, staring at the tv or the dirty yellow walls. Out there, I can lose myself in the engines, listening to their voices instead of listening for his call.

Ten times a day I turn around to tell him things. I crawl out from under some beat-up crop-duster, and when he's not there, crouched beside the toolbox holding out the wrong size wrench, it's like a kick in the gut.

I've caught myself talking to him a couple of times, lost in the depths of some engine, concentrating with my hands, and then suddenly I hear his name on my lips and it wrenches me back, out of the moment where I'd found him, the place where he's still with me. Those are the days Kimmie's lunch doesn't stand a chance.

Sometimes I wish I never made it back. I wish I'd fallen in that last attack, I wish they'd put me in a box and covered it with a flag and then I'd never have had to see his eyes when he told me he was going home. I'd never have had to hear him tell me "Safe travels, Nick, and maybe I'll see you one day, down the line." I'd never have had to watch him walk away.

I wonder if he dreams the way I do. I wonder if his eyes still look the same, I wonder if he smiles. I wonder if he wakes in the night and calls for me the way I do for him.

I wonder where he is, and most of all, I wonder why the hell I'm still alive.

* * *

He called me on a Tuesday after quitting time, and if it hadn't been for Kimmie's pickup breaking down I might never have known. She'd headed out to go home and her beat up old Chevy wouldn't turn over, so she came up to my trailer.

I'd planned for a long night of watching the ceiling, hoping I'd get an hour or two of sleep. Hoping I'd dream of the war, because in those dreams, I wasn't alone. When she banged on the door I nearly screamed.

I went on up to the dusty lot behind the clapboard office, and it didn't take me long to find the loose wire that was keeping the old truck from starting up. While I clamped it back in place, she went inside, and as I shut the hood, she called me in, sounding surprised.

"A guy called, Cody Allen. He asked for you, Nick, but when I told him to hold on, he said he'd call back later."

My mouth went dry and roaring filled my ears. I grabbed the desk to keep me upright and tried to remember how to speak.

"Nick?"

The phone rang again and saved me from having to answer. "Welcome to Quartz Hill Aero Services, how may I assist you?" Kimmie said in her secretary's lilt, and then "Certainly sir, he's right here. May I say who's calling? Oh, Mr Allen again? One moment."

I took the phone and looked at it for a long, hard moment, frightened and angry and burning inside. Cody. _Cody_. It had been so hard without him, and now he was calling and I had no idea what I was supposed to feel.

"Cody?" I got the phone to my ear, and his name was on my lips before I'd thought it out.

"Nick..." His voice was harsh and cracked and frightened, and I wanted to touch him so bad it hurt.

"Cody, man... where are you?" I was crying, I couldn't help myself, crying with fear and relief. "Are you okay?"

He made a sound that might have been a laugh or might have been a sob. "No," he said, and this time his voice didn't break. "I tried so damn hard to be okay, Nick, but I can't do it anymore. I'm at the gas station on La Posas Road, just up from Point Mugu. Would you... do you feel like a beer?"

I closed my eyes, and nothing ever felt so good as the tears on my cheeks. "Cody, I sure do," I said, softly. "I'm on my way, I figure two hours tops. Can you make it that long?"

"I made it three months." Cody's voice cracked again. "What's a couple hours, huh?"

"A couple of hours too long," I told him. "Hang in there, partner. I'm coming."

**3.**

Knees giving out, Cody slid to the ground, the phone dropping from his nerveless fingers and spinning on its cable, heavy and black. It swung against his shoulder and he cowered away, drawing his knees up, hunkering down.

Nick's voice on the phone, so real and close after all this time. Nick, closer than he'd dared to hope, coming for him like he'd always done.

Cody managed a full breath, eyes on the pebbled ground. Nick would find him, pick him up, get them back to safety, back to camp and then it would be okay. Cody scrabbled at his belt, but his canteen was missing, and he swiped a hand across his eyes. He supposed he'd lost it in the skirmish, and he wondered vaguely if he'd been hit. "Hurry, Nick," he whispered, running his tongue over his dry lips. He crouched down lower and strained his ears for the sound of the chopper.

**4.**

Jayman Pike had been to Korea and left the best part of a leg behind him, but it was his boast that it hadn't slowed him down none. He'd kept the gas station on La Posas Road since before he'd been drafted, and he opened it right back up again, with his sister helping out until he got his new leg broke in.

There wasn't anything Jayman saw that surprised him anymore.

When the lanky blond with the haunted eyes walked in and changed a dollar for some dimes, Jayman watched with knowing eyes. He knew a vet when he saw one, and in his practiced opinion, this kid was a fifth of Jack this side of eating his gun.

Jayman didn't say nothing, just chewed his gum and watched through the plate-glass window as the soldier eyed up the payphone like it was the captain of the gook army and he had him in his sights. The guy made a quick call before slamming the phone back down, turning and pacing around the pumps with his shoulders slumped like something in him broke.

Jayman looked at the phone, and wondered if he ought to call the cops or maybe an ambulance. He still hadn't made his mind up when the GI went back and made another call.

Then the kid hit the dirt, curled up like he was under attack, and that time Jayman knew what to do.

* * *

It had been just on an hour when an old Chevy pickup tore up the road, and Jayman'd seen it coming a mile off, all the dust it was raising. Whoever was driving was sure in a hurry, and Jayman hoped that meant someone coming for the blond GI.

The kid was still out there, hunkered down in the grass a few feet from the payphone, hidden and waiting.

When he'd first gone to ground, Jayman'd filled his old canteen and signaled him, scampered across his dusty yard like it was a clearing in-country, and handed the guy the water. The GI'd taken it with the barest grin and something like a nod.

"Think I took a hit," he rasped, pretty low. "The chopper's coming in... my partner's comin'... soon now, I hope."

Jayman nodded, and hoped like hell the soldier had that part right, anyhow. "Hang in there, kid," he told him. "I'm gonna check the area. You keep lookout for the rescue birds, right?"

"You got it, pal."

The GI passed the canteen back, but Jayman waved it away. "Keep it, kid." He grinned at the blond's nod of thanks, and scampered off the same way he'd come, bent nearly double, running a little crabwise on his artificial leg.

Now he was waiting inside the station, leaning on the counter, one eye on the kid in the grass and the other on the dark-haired guy who'd jumped out of the truck before it had even stopped. He was a vet too, it was all over him, the way he scanned the area before he ran for the door, a short, sharp burst of speed, evading the enemy. Jayman remembered when he'd felt that way, sure the gooks were coming, hearing their approach in every gust of wind. It took years to lose that feeling.

Poor damned kids.

Jayman met the newcomer at the door, saw the panic in his eyes, raised his hands and smiled the kindest smile he had. "You here for your partner, man?" he asked, straight up.

"Cody - " The guy swallowed hard, his throat working, looking around wildly.

"By the phone." Jayman nodded out the door. "Hiding in the grass. He thinks - he thinks he's back there, man." He watched the guy anxiously, wondering if he could work with that, wondering if he had what it took to talk his partner home.

"I get that." The GI nodded curtly, once, the panic cooling in his eyes. "You talked to him?" His eyes went hard, nearly angry, and Jayman nodded fast.

"I took him a canteen. He told me the chopper was coming - his partner was coming for him - "

The anger died and the guy's lips twisted into something Jayman figured for a smile. "Thank you," he said, and then he was gone. Out the door, running for his partner.

Jayman breathed in deep and found his heart was hammering in his chest. He moved back behind the counter and perched up on his stool, watching.

The blond kid's partner hit the ground beside him at a run, and the two of them were still, their backs to him.

It was a long time before they moved and when they did, the blond leaned heavily on his partner's shoulder, and Jayman hurt for them and the road they'd yet to cross.

Absently, he tapped a pencil on his metal leg, and it was an hour after the truck had pulled away before he limped out to the grass and retrieved his old canteen.

**5.**

The truck was nothing like a jeep but Nick was there, so Cody knew he didn't have to be afraid anymore. The landscape out the windows wasn't right; instead of jungle he saw brown California hills and knew it for a dream. He hurt all over, and he wondered again how bad he was hit.

"Nick?" he whispered.

"What is it, pal?" Nick's hand was on him in an instant and Cody caught his breath, a little of the pain falling away. He grabbed Nick's arm, his lifeline, the one thing that would keep him safe.

"Am I - gonna make it?" Cody whispered, turning his eyes to his partner's face. He knew Nick wouldn't lie to him. "Don't wanna leave you, pal."

Nick's face was wet with tears, and Cody lurched against his arm as the truck slid to a stop. "You're gonna make it, Cody," Nick said fiercely. He grabbed Cody roughly and pulled him close. "I got you now, you're safe, we're safe, and I'm telling you, man, we're both gonna make it. I won't let you leave me, Cody, not this time. You know?"

Cody heard Nick panting, holding him so tight he struggled to breathe, and Cody held on too, dropping his head to Nick's shoulder. The pain receded, slowly. "I know," Cody whispered, shaking.

He drew a deep breath and let go, let everything go.

* * *

Nick struck the tears from his eyes and pulled Kimmie's old truck back out onto the road, grabbing Cody's hand as soon as he'd got the vehicle in gear. Cody was asleep or unconscious, Nick didn't know which, and even though it scared the shit out of him to see his partner so fucked up, it couldn't override the sheer fucking elation of having the guy back, beside him, saying his name.

He'd get Cody home, get them both safe inside, then get his arms around the guy, talk him back from the place he'd gone. Talk him home.

Cody'd zoned before, slipped away in the night to some dark hell worse than the one they were stuck in, and Nick had held him then, more scared than he'd ever let on, scared the brass would find out and take Cody away, leave him behind to fight on alone.

But Cody'd come back, shaking and wide-eyed and clinging to Nick like he'd never let go, and by the time Pitbull turned up they were just two scared soldiers, present and correct. Pitbull never slammed a man for showing fear. He slapped their shoulders and they moved out, Cody right there by Nick's side.

Nick held his partner's hand and drove like hell, and prayed to anyone who'd listen.

* * *

Nick pushed his partner into the trailer's narrow berth and crawled in beside him, wrapping his arms around his chest. Cody curled up small and whimpered when Nick said his name, and Nick started talking, all the words he couldn't say to Kimmie, all the fears and pain that he and Cody'd seen. All the hope that Cody gave him, all the dreams they'd used to whisper in the dark.

"Come back to me, Cody. Come on back."

In the end he slept, overwhelmed by fear and exhaustion, his body around Cody, protecting him, his heartbeat calling Cody home. Somewhere in the dark, it was enough. Cody sighed and shifted in Nick's arms, and in his sleep, Nick smiled.

* * *

Something was different. Cody sat up; it took him six slow breaths to realize the fear was gone. The light was dim and the roof was low, just above his head, and he was warm.

Nick was beside him.

It hit him in the chest and nearly stopped his heart, making him choke for breath; he grabbed for Nick, praying he was real and not another image from his dreams. Nick sat up fast, grabbing him back, his own eyes wild, and Cody laughed with sheer hysterical relief.

Nick stared at him a minute then started laughing too, pulling Cody close. Cody wrapped his own arms around his partner as his laughter turned to sobs, and afterwards he never knew how long they'd sat that way.

When Cody finally sat up, Nick's eyes were wet too, and his hand stayed warm on Cody's back.

**6.**

Kimmie worried about Nick.

Nick, whose quiet, still eyes frightened her sometimes, when she saw him gazing inwards at things no-one else could see. Nick, handsome and gentle and a million miles away, lost somewhere Kimmie knew she'd never want to see.

She wanted to help, and she hoped that she did, a little. She'd seen the way his eyes changed when he heard her voice, seen him push away his darkness and find a smile for her. So she mothered him as much as he'd let her, and kept a special smile, just for him.

The night the stranger called, he'd cried as though she wasn't there, and when she'd offered him the truck he'd thanked her like she'd saved his life.

The next day, when she saw the change in him, she wondered if she had.

* * *

Kimmie liked Cody Allen. She liked his smile, she liked his soft-spoken polite way, and most of all she liked the way Nick grinned, the way Nick spoke, the way Nick met her eyes since Cody had arrived.

While Nick went to morning briefing, she beckoned Cody to the office. He drank strong black coffee and watched her shyly, listening as she told him all about her best friend's wedding, jumping up to retrieve her papers when a stack slid off the desk.

By the third morning he was talking back, and on the fifth day, he laughed.

Kimmie baked a cake that night, and when her mother asked what the occasion was, she only smiled and shook her head.

**7.**

Jayman watched the Chevy roll to a stop, pursing his lips. He'd seen that truck before, and as he watched the driver jump out he nodded to himself. It was the GI he'd seen last week, the dark-haired one, the one who'd come for the scared blond kid.

He wondered what had brought him back.

The guy walked in stiff and wary, and laid a twenty on the counter. "You got Marlboros?" he asked hoarsely, and Jayman nodded, fetching out a pack from under the counter.

He made change and pushed the cash and cigarettes towards the guy, realizing how young he was, how much younger than he'd seemed the other day. Him and his partner, just two broken kids. Jayman sighed heavily. "How you doing?" he ventured.

"Can't complain." The GI's lips quirked into a semblance of a smile, and then he shrugged and bit his lip. "Listen, I came over... I wanted to thank you for what you did the other day. For my partner. I dunno... a lot of people, seeing him that way..."

Jayman tapped the counter softly and nodded as the man's voice trailed off. "My partner didn't come back," he said, the words as final as they'd ever been. He nodded again and looked away. "Korea. It was a long time ago."

"I'm sorry." The guy's eyes were hooded and sad, and suddenly he stuck out a hand. "Nick Ryder."

"Jayman Pike." Jayman shook the GI's hand, meeting his gaze, and swallowed hard. "You take good care of your partner, man. You do that for me, you hear?"

Emotion rolled over Ryder's face. "I sure plan on it, sir," he said, and gave a sharp salute. He turned on his heel and Jayman watched him leave, breathing hard.

He'd been gone ten minutes before Jayman saw the change and the cigarettes, still lying on the counter.


End file.
